


Storge

by ichikonohakko



Series: The Tales of the Wayne Conglomerates [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Clark doesn't know what to do with the batchildren, M/M, batfamily, no particular canon is used in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichikonohakko/pseuds/ichikonohakko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Storge (storgē, Greek: στοργή) is liking someone through the fondness of familiarity, family members or people who relate in familiar ways that have otherwise found themselves bonded by chance. An example is the natural love and affection of a parent for their child.</p><p>Or the story of how Clark Kent meets the Wayne family children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GravityWhatGravity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityWhatGravity/gifts).



> So this was a secret santa gift for gravitywhatgravity! Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it, I hope this fic entertains you as much as it entertained me!

The jazz song blaring from the home theater on top of the fireplace, some wine and cheese and naked body curling to one another underneath the silk covers, and Clark Kent never felt as  _home_ as he was now.

He was supposed to be  _the_ Smallville, farm boy from Kansas who struggle to get by with reporter’s salary, and his biggest problem should have been Lois’ phone call about editing that needs to be done in the oddest hours. Home was supposed to be lying underneath the stars with the familiar sound of crickets and lawn mowers by the Kent family house but strangely,  _this_ felt like home too.

Bruce was wide awake, his eyes were focused on the still-burning flame. His back was on Clark’s chest, a measure of trust he was only able to get after knowing Bruce for ten years and another five spent wooing him. And finally,  _finally_ , after the little fancy dinner in one of Gotham’s finest restaurant (all in Clark’s expense, he’d been saving since  _forever_ for this little moment) and a truthful confession from the reporter (that yes, I am in love with you, Bruce, it’s been going on for like… five years now, I guess), Bruce had said that  _they should try going out_.

It had been fifteen years since Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent met at one of Wayne’s charity gala on their twenties and only now did they try to deepen their relationship. Clark didn’t feel like it was too late, it felt right, just like any time he spent with Bruce.

After the dinner, Bruce had taken the liberty off sweeping Clark off his feet, whisking him away on his black Benz and drove them to one of the penthouses he owned in the heart of Gotham. They had spend the night talking first, and then it escalated into something that Clark hoped that they both had wanted in the longest time. Clark had initiated the kiss, Bruce initiated the sex, and they both made love to one another. It was a perfect night.

That was until Bruce let out a long, uncharacteristic sigh as he gazed towards the flickering flame.

“Bruce? Something wrong?”

Because Bruce never  _ever_ let out a long sigh. An exasperated sigh whenever Clark try to do something stupid? Yes, maybe, but never a long exhale like he did just now.

Bruce turned to face him, his face handsome underneath the dim light of the penthouse. “Clark,” he spoke, voice as deep and sultry as the media made him out to be. Bruce was a millionaire playboy, but Bruce was also something else altogether. At first Clark saw him as how the media saw him, because in a sense, Clark  _is_ the media. But then he saw the other sides too. He saw the man who loved the city of Gotham with all his heart, he saw the man who still felt the emptiness left by his parents when they passed away, he saw the man who was compassionate enough to take in the children he felt as a kindred spirits to him, and most of all, Clark saw how much of a loving person Bruce could be.

Her name is Talia Al Ghul, first daughter of the Al Ghul Conglomerates. Bruce met her during a charity gala in Nanda Parbat a few years after he met Clark, and she took Bruce’s heart away.

Clark couldn’t remember all the details, but he remembered just how much Bruce would talk about Talia. Not to the media, or even to the children he had taken as his own, but he would talk to Clark. It was a bit odd to see Bruce so very in love with someone, to see him just casually mention how beautiful Talia was or how exquisite their dinner had been. They even had a talk about marriage somewhere along the way, but then, they didn’t last.

Clark remembered the night Bruce came to his place, not speaking, not saying anything. They just sat down on Clark’s sofa as they drink beers from Clark’s fridge. Talia had left him. She just left him a note on his bedside table saying that she loved him, but she loved her father even more. Bruce was heartbroken even until this day (and it had been six years since then), but Clark had helped him piece his heart back together.

(At first it was a simple friend-to-friend affair, but then it gradually escalated into something so much more)

“Yes?” Clark chimed in return, realizing that he had let the silence hang for too long. Luckily, Bruce didn’t push him. “I was… thinking,” he was hesitating. Oh, Rao, did he have second thoughts about their relationship? “About what?” Clark asked as calmly as he could.

“If we are going to take this relationship seriously… then I have something to tell you…”

Clark could feel his muscles tense somewhat. What could he possibly say after the dinner and the sex they just had? Talia? Is she returning? The only person in this world who could pose a worry to Bruce would be Talia or-

“I need you to meet my children.”

-his children.

Clark closed his eyes, trying to remember each and every member of Bruce’s little family. There was Alfred, of course, and there’s Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, and the last addition to the family was the child Talia had dropped off on Bruce’s care only a few months ago, Damian.

Bruce had been so  _so_ very careful not to let Clark meet any of his children. Why? He never knew and he didn’t bother to ask. But he met Alfred every so often, whenever he dropped by in the manor. But Bruce's  _children_ …

Clark knew all of them, by name and face and public biography. Billionaire Bruce Wayne is famous for his fondness of adoption, so very much that he decided to take in some of Gotham’s orphaned children. These children of Wayne household are all darlings of the media world. Daily Planet had once asked Clark to make a byline about the adoption of Timothy of Drake family into the Waynes after Jack and Janet Drake’s death, Clark had declined the offer because he wasn’t sure if he could keep it impersonal.

It wasn’t like Clark didn’t know that being in love with Bruce Wayne will have to mean that he had to love all of his children.

So he put on his best, reassuring smile, and say:

“Only if you agree to meet Conner and Kara.”

Bruce laughed.

* * *

i.

The young man in front of him had one of the warmest, happiest smiles Clark had ever seen. Under the gray clouds that seem the hang on top of Gotham permanently, the smile Richard Grayson had could have easily lift up the atmosphere around them.

They had met in a diner nearby Gotham University, the young man just finished his class and Clark had an exclusive of Arkham project he needed to write for the Planet. It was totally unintentional, just like how he had intended to do it in the first place.

 _With Dick,_ Bruce had mentioned.  _It’s easier if you don’t plan it. Just bump into him, he’ll talk to you like you two are old friends._

And that was how Clark ended up in a diner, watching the eldest of Bruce’s children munching down a bag of french fries and a burger.

“So, my name is Clark Kent,” Clark began, trying to find the easiest way of saying what he was. A reporter? Bruce’s friend? Bruce's  _boyfriend_?

Dick stopped dead in his tracks, eyes bulging out of his sockets as he tried to swallow all the food he had in his mouth in one try. “Whoa, easy there champ,” Clark said as he offered the boy a glass of mineral water. Dick took it and gulped down all of his food.

“I’m Richard Grayson, call me Dick, and you have no idea how happy I am to see you!” The young man’s eyes  _sparkled_  like he just got a ticket to his favorite movie. “And here we’ve all been wondering just when is B going to introduce his boyfriend to us. I guess Cass won the bet once again. Anyway, yes, yes, yes you have my blessing to take the Big Guy out, Clark!” He sounded so genuinely happy that Clark didn’t know what to do. But for the mean time-

“How do you know about me?”

The young man had grinned.

“Our Timmy is an expert in tech, yeah? It’s easy to find out who Bruce goes out with whenever he insisted that he wanted some alone time once you know how to hack his security cameras.”

And that was how Clark Kent learn to never underestimate children, especially  _Bruce's_ children.

* * *

ii.

Jason Todd was the second-most elusive member of the Wayne children after Cassandra Cain.

Nobody knew the reason why, though. It was hard to get pictures of Cassandra because she rarely leaves the Wayne Manor, but Jason is always out and about. He always had the brown jacket, leather pants, and the twin air guns on his hips, prowling about in Gotham’s downtown area like he owned the place. But somehow still, nobody knew where Jason went each night.

But tonight, Clark had been an exception.

He honestly had tried to ask Alfred to help him get an appointment to meet Jason, because according to Bruce, Jason wasn’t a person who like to meet new people like Dick was. New people generally got sorted into two categories for the young man; people he didn’t like and people he hated. But when those said new people were introduced by a member of Jason’s family, he would sort them into another category called ‘not bad’ and Clark honestly wanted to be sorted into the third category. And yet fate seemed to have a surprise planned for him.

A night in a casino downtown had been disastrous and Clark just  _happened_ to be in the vicinity when he caught a glance of familiar white tuft on top of the otherwise black hair of a young man who was getting beating of his life.

Clark was shocked, but when he was about to go help the second eldest of his boyfriend’s children, Jason had kicked the big buff man on his chin until he passed out on the pavement. So there he was, standing awkwardly by the big buff man and the son of his boyfriend, just… staring.

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” Jason swore. “Are you gonna tattle on Bruce or what? I  _finished_ the damn guy, okay? I don’t exactly need your help.” Apparently, standing a few meters away staring had made Jason jump into the conclusion that  _he was already helping_. Clark didn’t know what to say, or do, but then his brain settled to make his mouth blurt out:

“I’m dating your dad.”

Which was irrelevant to Jason.

Or to anything in this situation really.

Clark watched the man’s expression changed into that of sheer confusion, then incredulity, but then Jason laughed out loud.

The way Jason laughed is utterly similar with the way Bruce laughed, although not as loud. Jason’s laugh wasn’t like Dick’s warm girth of happiness, it was more like amusement in its purest form. Jason seemed like the type of person who enjoyed inappropriate jokes in an inappropriate place in an inappropriate timing.

After his laughter subsided, Jason looked at Clark from head to toe before snorting, more to himself than to Clark, then he turned and walked away.

But Clark could hear him say “Not bad, Bruce,” said in a whisper under his breath.

* * *

iii.

“My name is Clark Kent and I’m currently dating Bruce.”

There was a warm, knowing, smile coming from the raven-haired girl sitting across him in the cozy library of the Wayne manor. They’d been keeping each other in silent company for an hour, the only sound audible was the crackle of fireplace and Chopin’s Nocturne Op.9 playing on repeat. Cassandra Cain did not speak, but when he talked, she listened.

She listened and she watched. The nervousness, the anxiety, the crippling insecurity that Bruce’s beloved children will not accept him… Clark felt like he was stripped bare under Cassandra’s gaze.

But then, she show a small smile.

“I know. You seem to bring the best in him.” She said, her voice quiet yet firm. “Call me Cass, okay?” She had her hand on top of his own. And Clark felt like everything was going to be okay.

* * *

iv.

If Clark had to say, he didn’t expect that he would meet Tim Drake in this kind of situation.

He had imagined that it will be somewhat like his meeting with Cass, in an arranged manner where he already did his research about Tim so he could go for some common ground. He certainly  _did not_ imagine that he would be meeting Bruce’s third son half-naked on top of his coffee table, making out with the also half-naked Conner.

“Oh, hey, I don’t know you’ll be home early!” Conner gasped as he pulled himself away from Tim, trying to put a t-shirt on. Tim moved as quick and elegant as Bruce did whenever he was hurrying over from Clark’s place to work. There was a firm, yet pleasant smile curling on Tim’s lips as he put on some clothes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Kent.” Conner was the one who looked as if Tim had gone crazy, but the other boy paid him no heed. “Bruce has been explicit on his order to not find out more about you. I had honestly thought that you were his paramour, but seemed like you managed to get things in order.” Tim let out his hand. Clark stared at the hand offered to him, a bit shocked and amazed at the same time.

Tim was  _just_ like Bruce.

His mannerisms, way of talking, and apparently… taste in Kent family men.

“H-hey,” Clark stuttered, not knowing what to do, as he was prone to these days in front of the Wayne family children. He took Tim’s hand and the young man grasped it firmly. “If you got an okay from Cass, you have an okay from me. Good luck with the demon– I mean with Damian.” There was a small smile before Tim let go of his hand and swiftly took his phone lying on the sofa nearby and he blew a kiss to Conner as he left Clark’s apartment.

Conner gasped.

“You’re dating  _Bruce Wayne?!_ ”

Clark sighed.

* * *

v.

Alfred warned him of all the things he should not do when he came to the manor one wintery afternoon. Don’t wear any belts or scarves or any type of jewelry along his neck. Turtle necks are recommended, but not red ones because it will be easier to hide the blood ( _seriously?_ ). So Clark had settled with black slacks and blue turtle neck.

Bruce was away with Dick, Jason, and Cass to pick out the Christmas decor for another one of Wayne galas and that meant there was only Tim and Damian in the manor. Tim had to work and Damian was sulking (not that he’d admit it) because ‘Father asked Grayson to handle the business but I’m the heir I should be the one to do it’ so he elected to stay all day in the movie room, catching up on Bruce’s favorite Christmas movie playlist.

Tim told him (apparently he asked Clark’s number from Conner at some point of their relationship) that if he wanted to meet Damian before the Wayne family Christmas Eve dinner, this would be the time.

So here he was, in front of the media room with a silver tray with buttery cheese popcorn and non-alcoholic eggnog on top, the items Damian had requested to Alfred to bring into the movie room.

Out of all his children, Bruce warned him the most about Damian. Clark found it cute, somehow, to see Bruce so worried about what Damian might feel that he told Clark the entirety of what he knew about his own son. Clark took a deep breath. Time to do this.

He knocked on the door twice, because Damian didn’t like odd numbers, and waited patiently until he heard the small 'come in, Pennyworth’ coming from the boy inside.

Clark entered the room to see that it was dark, and the only light source came from the huge television screen. He could see a bit of Damian’s hair peeking out from the sofa, under the three blankets and- wait, three?

“Took you long, Pennyworth,” his voice was throaty and he didn’t sound well. Damian didn’t look away from the screen as he stretch out his hand ask to be handed his drink. “I assume Father is not back yet?” He let out a small cough. “And can you please get me the remote? I need to turn up the air conditioner, I'm  _cold_.”

Clark wasted no time to put the tray on the nearby table and rushed to the coffee table in the back of the room. He spent plenty of time in this room also, movie nights with Bruce and all, but this was the first time he felt that this room was  _hot_.

Taking the remote with him, he went to the nearby fridge to take a bag of ice he knew Bruce kept around in every refrigerator in his manor. Clark went to the sofa, placed the remote in Damian’s small hands, and put the ice bag on top of Damian’s head to cool him off.

“You have a fever,” he remarked, worried about the small child. Damian’s face was red and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. “That is an unnecessary remark, Pennyworth. I do know that I have a fever. Now leave me alone, I want to watch this movie.” But he didn’t open his eyes. Clark frowned.

“Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t. Father seem to look forward to this Christmas Eve dinner and it wouldn’t do for me to eat before and ruin my appetite.”  

Clark was about to go to the kitchen and ask for a porridge from Alfred, because clearly Damian is very sick if he didn’t notice that Clark was not Alfred. But before he managed to stand up, Damian exhaled. “He seemed happier these days, don’t you think? Grayson said that it was because of that Kent person Drake had told us about.”

“I… I would like to meet him one of these days. Grayson, Todd, Cain, and even  _Drake_ told me stories of how miserable Father had been without Mother all these years. And I saw it head first when I come here. But he is happier nowadays. Mother loved Father, but I don’t think she will ever leave the Al Ghuls to be a Wayne. I want to see Father happy. So I guess that Kent person shouldn’t be  _that_ bad.” Damian slurred. The six year old was shivering under his covers.

“Pennyworth? Are you listening to me?”

Clark smiled before he ruffled Damian’s hair, earning a displeased growl from the little boy. “I sure hope so, Master Damian.” He then left towards the kitchen, thinking how much he will come to love the boy when he already saw what was inside the spitfire Bruce had described into perfect detail.

In fact, he looked forward to fall in love with all those children he had met just as he had fallen in love so hard for their father. For the first time in his life, Clark felt as if he was walking on cloud nine as he think about the future, about how his little family of Conner and Kara will be so much larger with Bruce and his children in it.


End file.
